


It's Mutual

by alittlegloomy



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Two Pals Who Live Together And Absolutely Aren't In Love With Each Other, mutual-ish masturbation except neither of them (really) know about the other one doing it, no sirree not at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25659835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlegloomy/pseuds/alittlegloomy
Summary: Sometimes your best-friend-turned-roommate is really, really hot. Maybe you find out that you're really into them.You could talk about it, or maybe you can just avoid the awkward and deal with your ~feelings~ in private.
Relationships: Camilla Hect/Palamedes Sextus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	It's Mutual

"Fuck-" 

When he said it, it was immediately followed by a clasped hand over his mouth, palm pressing to lips, as though doing such an action  _ now _ would somehow make it so it hadn't happened at all, retroactively. His heart was pounding in his chest, forcing blood to rush in his ears, the sound a cacophony when coupled with the noise of the water splashing his shoulder, his side, the tile floor at his feet. 

Palamedes regained his composure, at least a little, and moved to rest his forehead against the cool shower wall. His hand moved from covering his mouth to laying, palm flattened, against the tile, just above his head for support. His  _ other _ hand was occupied, down between his legs, grasping at himself and tugging hard, fast. 

There were no thoughts. 

Well, that wasn't  _ entirely _ true - there were no overly  _ intelligent _ thoughts. His mind was occupied by a single thing, a single person, tan-skinned and muscled, with a sharp jawline to match her sharp haircut to match the sharp weapons she liked to collect - 

“ _ Cam _ ,” he breathed, and it felt like such sinful saccharine leaving his lips. He shouldn’t have liked the sound of that hanging in the air, bouncing quietly off of the shower wall in front of him, but it shot a shudder down his spine that warped and twisted, curling around itself to settle like a hot pit low in his gut.    
He also really shouldn’t have liked the fact that she, Cam, was less than 30 feet away, out in their shared living room, likely curled up on their shared couch, watching TV or reading any number of their shared books. What was ‘yours’ became a bit of a foggy line, when you were roommates.    
She was right there. At any moment, she could walk past the bathroom door, could hear him if he wasn’t careful. 

He really, really shouldn’t have liked that. 

But the thought of it, the thought of her potentially catching him, hearing him, God forbid  _ seeing _ him, forced his entire body to tense up, hips bucking forward into his hand desperately. His climax came accompanied by a near-strangled sound being torn from his throat, far too loud. There was almost absolutely no way that she hadn’t heard him, but he was too far gone to, frankly, give much of a shit. He spilled into his palm, and on the shower wall, his legs shaking from the exertion to the point of nearly causing him to collapse right there. 

After he’d cleaned off the wall and sat on the ground under the spray of the water (partially to calm down, partially to work very hard at stuffing away whatever  _ that _ had been in the highest box of his mental closet) for a good five, ten minutes, he shut the water off. He dried himself. He took a few moments adjusting his spectacles and his hair after smearing fog away from the bathroom mirror with his damp towel, looking himself over as though there was some fear in him that what had just happened would be apparent on his face. As though it was likely that script would have appeared on his forehead that loudly exclaimed  _ I just fucked myself to the thought of my roommate!! _

It wasn’t, and there wasn’t. 

When he left the bathroom and plodded his way out to the living room, he noted that Camilla was, in fact, curled up on the couch, laying with her head on the arm furthest from him with a book in her hands. Her positioning allowed her to lower the book minutely and look at him over the pages as he approached, and whatever it was that she had done with her expression struck him right on the spot. 

Did she know? 

Oh, fuck. She probably knew. 

Taking his seat at the end of the couch away from her head, she set her feet on top of his lap, a position they found themselves in on a nearly daily basis. If she knew, she didn’t call him out on it, a blessing that he was grateful for. 

“Pizza for dinner?” She asked in that cool, level tone of hers. 

He was content. 

\---

The fact that they shared a bed  _ should _ have made this awkward. 

Should have. Should have. Should have. 

But it didn’t. 

In fact, there was something so shameful about it that it crossed over the line of disgusting and right into the line of  _ thrilling _ . She could imagine that he was there, next to her - just like he had been three hours earlier. Just like he would be tonight. 

Camilla had time to relish in this fact. Enjoy herself. It would be another five, maybe six hours before he got home. She knew this, because when she had wished him off for a good day and had locked the deadbolts behind him, she had made her way out into the kitchen to look over their shared calendar that they had hanging on the fridge. Palamedes, bless him, was  _ very _ good about keeping his schedule updated, and he would be in a lab until one. Then, it seemed as though he’d blocked out study time for himself - usually handled in the library - until four. Include travel time, and that gave her free reign of the place until about five. 

She could smell him there, on their shared sheets, on his rumpled up, well-loved old pillow that she had tucked under her head. She’d long since kicked off her pajama shorts, and her legs were spread, one foot pushing the blankets down the mattress as she thrust the vibrator in deep, a motion that had her keening, back arching off the bed and mouth falling open to allow a cry to escape her parted lips. 

Normally, she’d just use her fingers. Normally, she was fucking herself quick, and quiet, hidden away in the shower or on the tile floor of their bathroom, or while seated on the bathroom sink - you didn’t get a whole lot of privacy when you shared a 500 square foot apartment with your best friend. Sometimes the bathroom was your best bet. 

But  _ now _ wasn't 'normally'. She had the place to herself for a while, and she was  _ absolutely _ going to take advantage of that, thank you very much. She’d spent some time fishing around blindly under her side of the bed, and had cried out a quiet victory cheer for herself when she’d found the shoebox. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to hide your toys underneath the bed that you shared with your best friend, but she’d seemed to be in the clear, thus far. 

Her favorite toy was a simple little thing - a slightly curved, light purple vibrator. Wireless, waterproof. When she’d powered it on at first, a little test to make sure, she silently praised Past Camilla for looking out for Future Camilla and remembering to charge the damn thing. 

Her free hand pushed up her shirt - well,  _ Palamedes’ _ shirt - and grasped at a breast, pinched at a nipple, all while she greedily drove her hips down, rocking into the thrusting of her hand. Her eyes slipped shut, closing out the room around her, allowing herself to be restricted to just the smells, the sounds, the feelings. 

When she moaned, it came with a word that she didn’t quite register at first, slipping out of her as naturally as breathing. She caught herself clenching around the vibe, hips shuddering for a second, before she could settle back into her pace. What had that been? She could feel the ghost of it on her mouth - the tingle of a consonant on her lips, her tongue touching the back of her teeth. 

Oh, shit. 

“ _ Pal- _ ” she caught herself saying (again, she realized), heat rocketing to her cheeks when she registered it. When her ears caught up with her voice, it caused her mind to spin, rushing and swirling in a mess of colors and noises and sensations, only cementing in place when she let it settle on a face, all high cheekbones and short, messy hair. His strong jaw, and his long, slender neck which connected with long, slender arms which connected with long, slender fingers- 

“Fuck!” She cried out, her hips shifting in a way that caused electricity to surge through her, driving up her spine and forcing her breaths to warp from pants to whimpers, desperate pleas - wrecked, needy,  _ hungry _ sounds that the neighbors might hear and complain about.

It felt a little bit wrong that she didn’t care about that, but she didn’t humor the thought for long. Instead, she twisted her head to the side, her face half-buried into Palamedes’ pillow, and when she inhaled, his scent hit her like a _freight_ _train_. She was consumed by him, wholly and entirely, and as her eyes screwed shut and her hips rocked down she found herself chattering a litany of “Please, please, Palamedes, please, _fuck me_ , Pal, Pal, Pal, _Pal-”_

When she finally hit her peak, it came with a sharp cry, her thighs clamping shut around her wrist and her hips shuddering rhythmlessly, a drunken bucking as the vibrator carried her over the edge and down, down, down through her aftershocks. 

How long it had been when she stopped, she didn’t know. She managed to blink light back into her vision, and pulled the toy out to set it beside her on the bed - she made a mental note to change the sheets in a moment, though she would have had to have done that  _ anyway _ \- and proceeded to breathe, haggard, open-mouthed as she stared up to the ceiling. Her hand that had been at her chest moved, and she realized as she lazily undid the top button and pulled the fabric aside that she had dug pretty little nail marks into the soft skin there when she came. Sucking her lower lip to worry it in between her teeth, she found herself hoping, just a  _ little bit _ , that those would leave even the tiniest bruises for her to remember this by. 

Glancing at the clock to take stock of the time after a while, she noted that it was 12:55. Already,  _ somehow _ . Palamedes would be getting out of his lab, soon, and she found herself reaching over to snatch her phone off of the nightstand. 

**[Still staying back to study?]**

The message wasn’t  _ entirely _ irregular, but she followed it up for good measure. 

**[Just wondering how much lunch I should make.]**

By the time her phone chimed his response, she’d had a chance to refill her water glass in the sink, clean off her toy, and had curled herself back up in bed.    
  
On his side, this time.    
  
**{Yeah, probably only until 2 though. Want me to just bring home Giovanni’s?}**

**[Ohhh, yes.]**

That was all they needed, and that was all  _ she _ needed. 

She had another hour or two, give or take. 


End file.
